


Regrets

by sweeterthankarma



Category: Actor RPF, Divergent (Movies), Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, I just rediscovered it years later and I'm putting it into the world because why not, this is from 2014 and it used to be on wattpad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2019-05-28 06:31:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15042836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: Shailene is entering her first year of college, prepared for all the typical awkwardness and trial and error she's seen in rom-com movies. Theo is a junior, trying to get away from the repetition of parties, frat life and meaningless conversation he constantly finds himself around.They both have regrets in the past, but they don't want to make any more in the future.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, back in the good old Wattpad days I had this uploaded on there and was planning on completing it, but not surprisingly, that never happened. I completely forgot I had even written this until I dug it up on my computer, and while it's incredibly cringy, I'm putting it into the world because maybe someone out there will enjoy it, or at least laugh at its naivety with me. Keep in mind this was written during the peak Divergent era (2014) and it certainly shows.

**Shailene’s Point of View**

 

As soon as I step outside, I’m greeted with the blinding Californian sun and the overwhelming summer heat. I almost walk back inside; I’m already missing the AC of my dormitory. I should at least change out of my sweater, I didn’t know it was going to be this hot. I’m running late, though, so I force myself to walk across the street, pulling my books closer to my chest. I’ve only been in college for a month, but everyday, the same butterflies I had when I first arrived are still there. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Bristol College, and now that I'm here, it's like a dream come true. Even as I lived out my dream, I couldn’t help but feel a yearning inside of me for something more. It was my parents dream just as much as it was mine, so obviously I’m thrilled, but with every footstep, I hear my mother’s voice in my mind.

_ Focus solely on school _ , she would have said.  _ That’s all that matters, that’s what’s most important. _

As much as I agreed with her, something inside of me always begged to differ. I’d always been a straight A student; it was something I took pride in. Yet still, I couldn’t help but wonder what else I would have done if that wasn’t my top priority. I knew about the kids who smoked and sold drugs in the school bathrooms every day; that wasn’t what I wanted  _ at all _ . I just wondered, especially at moments like this where I was completely on my own...what else could I do with my life? Was there more beyond the simplistic lifestyle of study, sleep, eat, move on? 

I couldn’t bring myself to admit it, but I knew...I was curious, and I was in the perfect situation to try out that curiosity.

I let out a sharp breath that I didn’t even know I was holding, and join my class in the center of the park in the middle of campus. Our next few classes are going to be here.

What was I saying? I knew what happened in colleges. I knew the story: an innocent girl goes off on her own and everything is a downward spiral after that. I didn’t want that to be me, I wouldn’t let it be. This opportunity meant too much to my family- too much to  _ me _ . I wouldn’t let anything or anybody ruin my chances.

I sit down on the grass next to my friend Zoe, but she doesn’t raise her head from her textbook even when I drop my bag heavily on the ground beside her head. She mutters a simple, “studying” from the binding of her book and continues scanning the pages with her eyes, as if she’s trying to memorize the words. I almost pity her, but then stop myself. Why would I? I’m just like her, anyways. Always having my head inside of a book, always studying- that’s the same exact thing I do...the same thing I’ve  _ always  _ done. 

I sigh again and pull out my notebook for today’s class- philosophy. Just as I sip on my herbal tea from my thermos, our professor Ms. Davidson joins us in our circle.

    "Hello class, so today we're going to talk about our regrets that we've ever felt in life." My kind teacher starts, "Anything your heart desires to write, just spill it all on the page."

 

As soon as she speaks, I hear pencils and pens pressing against papers from all around me. I wish it were that easy for me to just write my regrets and open up my mind, after all, I’ve been pondering the things that I do regret and question the most about my life. It’s all locked up in my brain, but for some reason I just can’t get them to come out.

    “Ms. Woodley? Are you done already?” 

"U-um...yeah, I wrote about how in my childhood, I, um..." Just while I'm stuttering a response, I notice a group of guys walking by the field. I recognize most of them; Zoe told me that they were the most popular and sought after boys in all of campus. Although they’re all attractive, one of them catches my attention, though. He has short light brown hair and big brown eyes, I don't remember Zoe telling me about him.  I can hear him laugh even from where I sit, and then I go rigid once his eyes fall on me. His eyes linger longer than I expected, longer than they should. I am about to open my mouth to finish my answer when I forget everything. The words are on my lips, so simply said, yet I can’t get them out. The boy has turned and walked away, his hands still in his pockets. I suddenly feel everybody’s eyes on me, all around me. Zoe nudges me. 

I can feel myself growing redder and redder with every passing second. I wring my hands in my lap and force myself to meet Ms. Davidson’s eyes. 

    “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I haven’t written anything down yet.” 

Ms.Davidson gives me a stern look. “I’m expecting more from you,” she says with an arch of her eyebrow. I take that as a warning and nod sheepishly, ducking my head back into my own textbook.

Zoe is still staring at me, this time with a smirk on her face.

    “What?” I hiss under my breath.

She shakes her head, and I think that maybe she’ll let this go, but then, when Ms. Davidson’s back is turned, she leans over and whispers, “his name’s Theo James” in my ear.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will I regret (ha ha ha) posting this mess? Probably. Am I still going to upload the remaining chapters I wrote? Yes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Theo’s Point of View**

 

I wake up with a pounding headache and the smell of vodka. I check the bed sheets and search to see if the liquid is on my bed, because I’m not going to lie, that’s happened to me more often than I’d like to admit. It’s just embarrassing when you wake up and find yourself drenched in alcohol. But no, this morning, the scent is just lingering from my breath.

I sit up and instantly, black spots cloud my vision. Hangovers are the worst, especially when you have to go to class early. I would skip class this morning, but it’s an easy day, with only one philosophy class. I can manage it. Regardless, I took two days off last week because I was simply too tired to just drag my ass to class. No parties then, just exhaustion and too much Netflix.

I groan and force myself to stand up from my bed. I turn on my shower, waiting for it to warm up; once it does, I step in. As I let the water glide over my skin I try my hardest to remember what happened last night. I remember girls trying to get with me, but when doesn’t that happen? I never go with them though. My best friend, Ryan, always does, and it never ends well. I only made that mistake once, freshman year, and learned to never do it again. Plus, I don’t find proper company in girls like that. The last one I did hook up with, I’d tried to talk to her about her obvious smoking issue. She didn’t take it well, and we didn’t even have proper sex, since she stormed off in a bitter rage. So, yeah. When I say I hooked up with a girl once in my first year of college, that’s what I meant. Not legitimate sex. Just a confused, frustrated blond with half a shirt on laying on my bed, until I opened my mouth and insulted her. I was just trying to help her, though. That’s one reason I don’t mess around with girls like that. If I’m going to date a girl, or at least have a drunken affair with her, I want to know more about her than her name and age. As a philosophy major, I see other girls who can actually think and hold decent relationships. I don’t really like the whole concept of intoxicated hook-ups, anyways. I don’t know how to tell Ryan. We’ve been best friends since fifth grade, even though we’re polar opposites and he can’t even pronounce half the titles of my textbooks. But Ryan has a good heart. He really does, even if it’s hard to see.

Nonetheless, I always tell the freshman, who idolize Ryan for being such a well-known ladies men, that I hooked up with that blond girl in my freshman year, merely because that’s what Ryan thinks happened. He knows I’m not a player now- sure, I enjoy the music and alcohol in his parties, but I don’t do the stuff he does. I don’t even like to be around him when he’s like that, high and wasted and later unconscious. There’s something addictive about the liveliness and youthfulness in his parties, though. It sustains me when I’m surrounded my academics at all other times, no matter how interested I am in those studies.

 

I get dressed in my typical flannel and jeans, grab my textbook, and start on my way. I’ll actually probably make it on time today. I stop and get a coffee in the cafeteria and then take a seat in the lecture hall that we’ll be learning at today. Right as the speaker is about to begin, a girl slides in the seat next to mine. She has long blond hair, that's slightly frizzy; she looks disheveled. She jumbles her books around in her arms, stacking them neatly, and then shoves them under her seat. She gives me an apologetic look and smooths back her hair. She's pretty, but not in an obviously striking way- she doesn't wear a lot of makeup, if she wears any at all, but her hazel eyes stand out against her dark lashes. "I hope you weren't saving this seat for anyone," she says to me. She outstretches her hand. "I'm Shailene. Freshman."

I shake her hand and raise my eyebrows at her. "Freshman? You sure you're supposed to be in here?" This class is entirely made up of juniors at the moment, like myself.

She nods. "Upper placement." She doesn't come off as bragging or even prideful about it, just states it like it's a simple fact.

"Impressive," I say. I'm not lying, it is impressive. This is a pretty tough class, I must admit. Lots of deep thinking and concepts with lots of historical background.

Shailene just shrugs, once again, nonchalant.

"So what year are you?" She asks after a moment of fidgeting with her shirtsleeves. She's dressed in a white long sleeve shirt with buttons down the front. She's done some of the buttons wrong; the bottom one is undone and the one above it is in the wrong hole. She must have been running late this morning.

"Junior," I respond. 

"What are you majoring in?"

I'm about to tell her, but then the presentation begins. We sit in silence, and I watch her out of the corner of my eye. She takes notes in a plain black notebook every now and then, writing quickly as if she doesn't want to waste her time hearing what the speaker is saying next to focus on what she has to write, even for a few seconds. I don't find the presentation particularly exciting. I take out a pack of gum and offer her a piece, simply out of politeness since she looks at me when I rummage through my bag. She shakes her head, and my face gets hot for half a second. I don't know why.

I try to focus on the presentation, to not get distracted by her frantic scrawling in her notebook. Then Shailene slips a piece of paper into my palm. I unfold it, careful not to make too much noise when doing so. 

"One thing you will learn about me is I am highly against any and all artificially manufactured foods and / or products," it reads. "Orbit gum = no-no. Organic gum tastes so much better." A little smiley face with its tongue sticking out is doodled below the words. I look over at Shailene and she smiles at me. I smile back, and for some reason, the presentation is bearable.  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Shailene’s Point of View**

 

It wasn’t until halfway through the presentation that I realized the guy I had sat next to- Theo- was the guy I had seen the day before in the park with Zoe.

The keynote rambles on, not seeming to be near the end of her speech even though her time is running out. I glance at Theo every now and then, to see him sketching an animal- presumably a lion, perhaps a tiger. His scrawl is messy but artistic. The stray lines and erase marks on the paper make it stand out, yet still look collected.

I nudge his arm without thinking. "That's cool," I say.

He gives me a small, shy smile, almost as if he's embarrassed of his work. "I just do it for fun, I'm not good at it by any means."

I shake my head even though his eyes are back on his paper and he can't see me. "No, that's amazing. Really. That's so cool."

He gives me a more genuine looking smile this time. 

 

When the presentation is over, we head to an early lunch. I expect Theo to run away with his friends as quickly as he can; he seems like the type to have lots of cool friends that he spends most of his time with. I’m surprised when he asks me where I usually sit.

    “Uh…” I stammer, looking around the crowded cafeteria for something else to focus my vision. I can’t find anything, so I force myself to look back at him. “So far I’ve just been sitting anywhere I can find an empty seat,” I say sheepishly.

    “Oh yeah. Freshman. I forgot.” He looks at me for a moment, studying me, as if hesitating before opening his mouth. “You look older, you know,” he says. “I would have thought you were at least a sophomore.”

He doesn’t say it with condescension in his voice, instead he just keeps looking at me. I flush and run a hand through my hair nervously. “Is that a good thing?”

    “Yeah,” he says, leading me over to a table with two empty seats across from each other on the end of it. “You don’t get that a lot?”

I shake my head. “You look older too though,” I say.

He shrugs. There’s a lull in the conversation, but it isn’t awkward, at least not until his eyes meet mine and I realize I have been staring at him for too long.

    “So,” I clear my throat and fold my hands on the table, trying to look as casual, yet poised, as I can. “Do you have any tips for surviving this crazy college life?”

    “Depends on what you’re into and where you plan on ending up,” he replies.”If you’re a crazy partier, you’ve definitely come to the right place. Perfect religious schoolgirl, not so much.”

I instantly ease up when I realize he’s joking, and any and all pressure between us almost immediately evaporates.

    “Hate to disappoint you,” I say, “but I’m neither of those.”

    “Well, what are you into?” he asks.

I sigh. “I hate that question,” I say without restraint. “How do I really know what I’m interested in? I could be interested in space travel today and then hear some exciting news about, like, computer engineering, and suddenly decide to devote myself. It’s not as easy as people think to explain your interests. It’s like they want you to become one with them, and then change isn’t even allowed.”

    “Fair enough,” Theo answers. “But what are you majoring in? That at least defines you in some way.”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “What if I don’t want to be defined?” I say slyly, then quickly answer his question in fear that I seem like I’m trying to be seductive. Too soon, I tell myself. Even though he is hot as hell.

I tell him that I am indeed majoring in field botany, creative writing, and philosophy. 

His eyes light up. “No way,” he says, “I’m taking philosophy too.”

    “That explains the aura of sophistication,” I reply.

    “Right back atcha.”

I can’t help it, I flush. It’s been a long time since I’ve been complimented by a guy, even discreetly.

    “So how has your college experience been?” I ask, desperate for feedback from someone level-headed. People either love or hate college, Theo seems like the type to give me a truthful answer with a little bit of both.

He seems to ponder this for a moment. “Decent,” he finally says. 

I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t expand. 

    “Hey, didn’t I see you in class yesterday?” He asks suddenly.

I flush and pull my sleeve over my hand, tugging on a loose string. “Uh, maybe? I was outside with Ms. Davidson.” No sense denying it if he saw me ogling over him and brought it up.

He pushes a breath through his teeth. “Damn, she’s tough,” he says. “I had her sophomore year and she hated me. I did all my work and everything, but she was just out to get me. Made me feel like all my ideas were stupid. But I bet you’re smarter than me, seeing as you’re already in a sophomore level class for that.” 

I don’t know what to say next, and fortunately, I don’t have to say anything because the bell rings. Theo pulls out his notebook from his backpack, rips out a piece of paper and scrawls numbers on it, then hands it over to me. 

    “Call me if you need any help,” he says. “I’m in dorm 17, I have classes every day except all day Thursday and Monday and Friday afternoons. My buddy throws some nice parties too- I know you said you’re not into that, so I don’t recommend the weekday parties, but if you want to stop by sometime, I’ll introduce you.” I’m shocked by the amount of sincerity in his voice. In high school I was surrounded by boys who could barely do their own school work, let alone help someone else with theirs, and any parties I was ever invited too were merely in hopes that some guy could hook up with me. I had only been to one high school party, and I had only lasted twenty minutes before calling my mom to pick me up.

But Theo just smiles at me, like he genuinely wants to help me. He sees my hesitation and reassures me. “You don’t have to, of course. I understand that all of this-” he gestures to the buzzing crowd of bustling people around us, a stern male voice echoing over the loudspeaker- “can all be a little scary at first. But you should reward for yourself for getting here and making it through your first week.”

I nod. “I’ll call you,” I promise. 

As I walk away towards my next class, I can’t help the giddy feeling in my stomach from existing. If anything, I at least now have my first new friend, and a perfect chance to make more.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all I ever wrote...lmaoooo. Will we ever find out where this fic goes? Nope, because I didn't even have a set plan as I was writing this so I can't even tell you what I thought was gonna happen. To the two active Sheo shippers out there, you're welcome for this. (Or maybe not, because this was probably a disappointment.)  
> Anyways, come say hi and talk to me in the comments, or at my Tumblr under the same username.


End file.
